


Application

by pt_tucker



Series: The King's Bed [1]
Category: The Hobbit (Jackson Movies), The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: Bed Warming, Hand Jobs, Incest, M/M, Masturbation, Official Bed Warmer, Parent/Child Incest, Voyeurism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-05
Updated: 2015-06-05
Packaged: 2018-04-02 23:52:07
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,862
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4078669
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pt_tucker/pseuds/pt_tucker
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Thranduil is seeking a new bed warmer. Legolas makes it known he is interested in the position.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Application

**Author's Note:**

  * For [yeaka](https://archiveofourown.org/users/yeaka/gifts).



> For the lovely, lovely yeaka who gives me crazy ideas & then forces me to write them. 
> 
> **Now beta read** by the lovely NightHerald! So, it's been changed a tad from its original form, but is still mainly the exact same story.  
>   
> 

“I’ll have it done by the end of the week,” Legolas said. He inclined his head and made to leave the throne room when a sudden rashness overtook him, and he turned around to look up at the king.

Thranduil raised an eyebrow.

“There is a matter of which I would speak to you.”

His father lazily swept a hand to the side in silent permission to continue.

“It…” Legolas glanced around the room. Guards stood at almost every corner, ever watchful and always listening. “Forgive me. It is of no import.” He gave his father a soft bow and headed towards the stairs.

“Legolas,” Thranduil called out, his quiet voice carrying in the echoing cavern.

Legolas paused to glance over his shoulder.

“You will come to my chambers tonight. We will discuss what has so troubled your mind, ion nin.”

Unable to deny the king’s command, Legolas merely nodded. He continued onward, the feel of Thranduil’s penetrating gaze following him across the sprawling walkways until at last he reached the doorway and was free of it.

\---------------------

Sunset found Legolas waiting outside his father’s bedroom, and it wasn’t long before Thranduil rounded the corner and came into view. Legolas straightened. Even the rigid posture he’d worn since he’d been an elfling did not seem straight enough for an elf such as Thranduil. His father was ever tall and imposing.

“Come,” Thranduil said, pushing past him to open oak doors that were even more extravagant than those that graced the rest of the palace. Legolas gifted the intricately carved elk in the wood a despairing glance before following.

“Speak to me, my leaf.”

Legolas did not at first. Instead, he silently watched as his father threw off his elegant robes, unlaced his leggings, and kicked off his boots with motions so quick and smooth they might as well have been part of some ancient dance. For the brief moment that Thranduil was bared to the world he was a breathtaking sight to behold. Long, pale hair cascaded down strong shoulders, leading to a taunt bottom and well-defined legs. The sight teased Legolas for a mere second before bare skin was once again covered as Thranduil slipped into something still beautiful but much more plain than his formal wear.

Thranduil turned to look at him when he did not respond. “This troubles you greatly.”

“It is not a trouble so much as an unusual desire. One which I do not think my king will grant me but one which I must request nonetheless if my mind is to be at peace.”

Thranduil sat on the edge of the bed and crossed one leg over the other. “It must be unusual indeed. There is little I would not give you, ion nin.”

That was truth. His father was cold, often to the point of seeming uncaring, and he held Legolas to a strict standard that would break many lesser elves, but he had rarely forbidden him anything. And everything he had forbidden he had forgiven when Legolas took it anyway. There had been talk for centuries of Legolas’ spoiled upbringing, though always spoken in a tone most fond. It gave the people joy to see that in some way their king did love his son.

“I heard that you were seeking a new bed warmer,” Legolas said.

“Yes,” Thranduil answered. He waved towards the brush sitting on the stand beside Legolas. “I have grown tired of my current one. Is that what this is about, my leaf? Do you desire one of your own?”

His father’s voice was almost mocking towards the end, telling Legolas everything he needed to know about Thranduil’s thoughts on his sexual activities. He was still too young in his father’s eyes, and all but a few would be unworthy regardless. Not that Thranduil was in the habit of thinking bed warmers worthy of being anything but simple playthings; his father just enjoyed holding higher standards for him than he did even himself. If Thranduil had his way, Legolas would be wed before he ever experienced the pleasures of the flesh.

Legolas obediently brought the brush over, but instead of handing it to his father, he sat behind him. He leaned back on his heels as he made himself comfortable and pretended his actions were not just an excuse to escape that ever watchful gaze. Thranduil tensed at his boldness – they did not do such things – but relaxed once Legolas started bringing the brush down through his golden strands.

“I do not wish for a bed warmer, Ada.” Legolas took a deep breath and released it slowly. Thranduil turned his head towards him slightly but thankfully made no comment. “I wish to be one.” His hands shook as the brush made its way through his father’s hair.

Thranduil whipped around and grabbed his wrist. Legolas forced himself to bear the full brunt of his father’s sneer and the scorn it signified.

“My son is not a whore.”

“Not even to the king?” Legolas whispered.

The distaste in Thranduil’s expression blew away like a leaf caught upon strong winds, leaving behind only confusion when the forest floor had settled once more. Legolas felt honored: few had been granted such a sight in the many centuries since his mother’s death. It was soon gone, replaced by Thranduil’s well-worn mask.

“You are confused. I will instruct your tutors to provide you with a better understanding of how such things work.”

“I need no instruction Ada, and I am not confused,” Legolas said, keeping his voice strong despite his inner shaking, just as he’d been taught by the elf before him. “I have seen those who you would permit to grace your bed, and I admit to having felt jealous of their placement for many years. I made no attempt to steal your attention away from them as I am no thief, but now that you have made it known you seek another I have no choice but to tell you. If you would have me, I would take their place.”

“What you ask for is most unusual,” Thranduil said. His eyes watched Legolas’. Legolas knew if they showed even a speck of doubt he would lose this chance forever.

“Yes, but not unheard of.” Lord Elrond’s twins were proof enough of that.

A scowl flitted across his father’s features, no doubt the twins also coming to mind for him, before it was replaced by a look of contemplation. Slowly, Thranduil eased his hard grip on Legolas’ wrist, instead shifting to hold it lightly in his palm. The king ran the pad of his thumb across Legolas’ skin, and Legolas couldn’t help but shiver. Thranduil smirked.

Thranduil let go and turned back around. “Continue.”

Legolas stared at him, uncomprehending, before realization struck and he started brushing Thranduil’s hair again.

“Tell me, Legolas, son of Thranduil, what qualifications have you for this position?” Though the words were harsh, they were softened by the almost playful undertone that lit Thranduil’s voice.

Legolas felt jealously flow through him at the thought of the elves who had lain with his father before. Had they been granted this hidden side of the king, or did Thranduil do this only for his benefit?

“None, my lord. I have no experience with these matters.”

“Because you are young.”

“Because my father is overprotective.”

Thranduil turned once more, this time taking the brush from his hand and tossing it carelessly to the floor. Legolas found himself prey underneath the predator that was his father when Thranduil flipped himself around and pinned Legolas to the bed. Legolas was certain his heartbeat could be heard even by the guards outside.

“And if your father were to … reconsider his stance? Would you truly use this newfound freedom to serve an old Elvenking far past his days of innocence or would you partake in the joys of youth instead?” Thranduil breathed the question against Legolas’ neck, his lips a mere hairsbreadth above his skin. Gently, his father’s knees tapped against his legs, and Legolas parted them obediently so Thranduil could more easily sit between them.

“I would allow no other touch me, Ada.”

Thranduil sat back on his heels and allowed his eyes to rake over him. Legolas knew he had to be quite the sight. They had not even done anything and yet Legolas found he had never felt more ravaged in his life. He turned his head away in embarrassment when his father’s eyes slid in between his legs, where his cock strained to break free of his leggings from what little they had already done.

“No, you wouldn’t,” Thranduil said. He leaned over Legolas once again, keeping himself upright with one hand on the bed as the other turned Legolas’ gaze back towards his own. “I do not permit my bed warmers to find satisfaction in other partners. If you truly wish for this position, you may not take other lovers until I am finished with you.”

“I shall desire no other lovers,” Legolas said. Never before had he spoken such truth. He could think of no one that could even hope to compare to Thranduil.

Thranduil smirked. “No, you shall not. But what of your own hands? Normally I am not so strict with those who share my bed, but for you I would have special rules.” Thranduil ran a hand along Legolas’ side, stopping on his hip. “Your pleasure shall belong only to your king and no other. I will not allow you to touch yourself without my permission.”

Legolas swallowed as Thranduil pushed himself up. Thranduil unlatched Legolas’ belt and pushed open his jerkin to reveal the loose tunic underneath. His breath hitched as his father slipped his hands under the pale green fabric to touch bare skin.

“If my lord does not allow it, then I shall resist.”

Thranduil snorted. “We shall see.”

Pushing Legolas’ tunic up to his neck, Thranduil examined his pale chest with what looked to be only mild interest. Legolas hoped his father was only playing his part, for he had nothing else to offer him if he did not like what he found. He certainly had no skills worthy of a king’s expectations.

Legolas’ eyes widened as Thranduil glided his hands down to rest at his lacings. Thranduil untied the knot and slid the silken thread out of the holes one by one.

Catching his gaze, Thranduil said, “If you wish to warm my bed, I must judge what you have to offer.”

Legolas tensed as Thranduil’s hands slipped over the top of his leggings, ready to pull them down. “And if my lord is not pleased with what he finds?”

“You need not worry so, little leaf. You have beautiful lineage.”

Legolas lifted his hips as his leggings were peeled away to reveal the aching hardness beneath. His cock jutted up from his patch of curls and he was ashamed to see that it was already leaking. Thranduil looked amused, which was not exactly the reaction he’d been hoping for. He felt silly for thinking his father might have been anything other than smug for something he himself had helped to create.

“Am I to your liking, Ada?”

“You are handsome enough but a pleasing appearance is only half of what is expected. I shall need to test your body to see if responds properly.”

“Properly?” Legolas murmured breathlessly.

Thranduil gracefully rose from the bed. Legolas resisted the urge to panic. Surely he had not done something wrong already?

“Remove the rest. I would see you laid bare before me,” Thranduil ordered, swiping away the handful of hair that had fallen over his shoulders.

Reassured, Legolas all but tore off his clothes. He tossed them onto the floor as if they burned, all the while ignoring his father’s raised eyebrow. When he was done he laid back down, uncertain of what else he was supposed to do.

Thranduil’s gaze drifted lazily down Legolas’ body. Legolas watched in aroused fascination as it swirled across his neck and shoulders, caressed his chest and stomach, toyed with his hips and curls and then stopped to focus between Legolas’ slightly parted thighs. “You will keep your legs parted so that I may see you.”

Flushing at the reprimand, Legolas opened them wider. He forced himself not to squirm under Thranduil’s intense scrutiny.

“Sometimes I enjoy watching my bed warmers touch themselves,” Thanduil said, leaning against the desk at his back and folding his arms.

Understanding the hint, Legolas trailed his hand down his stomach to his cock. He stopped just before touching it and looked up at his father. When Thranduil said nothing, Legolas tentatively grasped it. He turned his head away as he ran his hand over the leaking tip, unable to stand Thranduil’s piercing gaze any longer.

A soft moan escaped his lips as he spread the liquid across the head. Unable to control himself, he jerked upwards into his palm. He wished for more sensation but did not want to tug at himself in his usual frenzied craze, for surely Thranduil did not want some rutting beast. He imagined his father to have perfect self-control even in love-making, and he wanted nothing more than to show him he could have the same if it was required of him.

Legolas cried out as a foreign hand gripped his cock. His head snapped back around to his father.

“Do not assume to know what it is I desire,” Thranduil hissed, touching Legolas in a blissful manner that made him see stars.

Legolas moaned and arched his hips as his father brushed away his unnecessary hand and took control himself. Thranduil placed his other hand on Legolas’ stomach to keep him still as he quickly began moving his grip up and down Legolas’ cock. Legolas clenched the bedsheets in an attempt to remain motionless.

“I expect my bed warmers to give themselves to me entirely, ion nin. If you truly yearn for this placement, you shall hold nothing back while in my presence unless I tell you to do so,” Thranduil said, his voice no different than if he were scolding Legolas for allowing a nest of spiders to escape their regular sweeping of the forest.

“Forgive me,” Legolas gasped. His knuckles were white from the effort of not moving. “I did not know what you wanted of me.”

“Do not release without my permission,” Thranduil said, ignoring him.

Legolas writhed against the silken sheets. “Ada I can’t! I’m going to-”

Thranduil’s attack stopped just as suddenly as it started, leaving Legolas whining at the lack of sensation. He was so hard he felt an errant wisp of hair might send him over the edge.

“You are forgiven,” Thranduil said, his tone cool as he observed Legolas like one might observe a vaguely interesting tree bug.

“Please, Ada.” Legolas thought he might die if left like this.

“It is not _my_ duty to please _you_.”

“Perhaps I am not meant to be a bed warmer,” Legolas said forlornly. His hands continued to grip the sheets so as to not be tempted to touch himself. He wasn’t certain if his father’s earlier command to touch himself still stood or if this torment was now part of his punishment.

Thranduil sat down upon the edge of the bed not an arms-length away from Legolas’ knee. His father crossed his legs and placed his hands upon them. He faced Legolas, though he did not look him in the eye. Instead his father’s gaze was focused much to the south. “Continue. This time entertain me.”

Legolas tried, truly he did. But he could take no more and was spilling into his hand after a mere few strokes. He sighed. He had failed.

“I did not give you permission to spill your seed.”

Legolas threw his arm over his eyes, unable to stand his shame any longer. Perhaps if he pretended hard enough this would have all been a dream.

“Look at me, ion nin,” Thranduil whispered.

Legolas peered at him from under his arm. He allowed it to drop away upon seeing one of his father’s rare, but true, smiles.

“There is no shame in your lack of control. I know you have not experienced another’s touch before.” Thranduil’s eyes were that of a thief who’d just found the perfect jewel amongst a dragon’s hoard. “As it stands, your inexperience pleases me, so I shall not hold your disobedience against you. Know in the future you will be punished for such insolence.” Legolas flushed as Thranduil indicated the rapidly cooling spillage on his stomach.

“However there is the still the matter of your desired appointment.” Legolas shivered at the cool look his father sent him. “There are many elves in these halls who covet the same position. You must prove that you are more worthy than they, ion nin.” Legolas nodded quickly. “When you have recovered enough, we shall begin this exercise again. If I feel that you have made satisfactory improvement, I may consider granting your request.”

“I will not fail, my lord.”

Thranduil trailed an idle finger between Legolas’ open thighs. Legolas arched into the touch.

“No, you will not.”

**Author's Note:**

> So, what'd you think? I admit to knowing almost nothing about Tolkien-verse so if you see anything weird feel free to say so. Other concrit welcome too!


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